


Something So Wrong

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt, Forbidden Romance, Mental Health Issues, Munkustrap Needs A Hug, Munkustrap has issues, Toxic Relationship, addiction mentality, emotional angst, or a therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29950065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: Yet it feels so good.
Relationships: Macavity/Munkustrap (Cats)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Something So Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smileyfacegauges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyfacegauges/gifts).



Munkustrap knew that this was wrong.

It would hurt the ones he cared about.

It went against everything he believed in.

No good would ever come of it.

Yes, in his heart and in his mind he knew it was wrong. He knew it in his very soul.

He knew he shouldn't do it.

But that was the definition of an addiction, wasn't it? You just couldn't resist the high.

The strong arms wrapped around his waist tightened, long claws raking up through his thick fur and lightly over the sensitive skin underneath.

Munk shuddered at the sensation, his fingers splaying out across the broad chest beneath him. All that existed for him was that chest at the moment, it's crisp white center framed by fiery red and yellow fur with powerful muscle rippling underneath.

He knew it's owner was most certainly giving him that trice cursed look.

Mocking laughter dancing in those impossibly bright green eyes, eyes that bore into his soul and left him feeling exposed. That wide grin exposing large glinting white fangs that were licked seductively by the horrid blessed tongue.

Hungry for him.

Eager to cruelly ravage him.

Macavity enjoyed this, there was no doubt about. Enjoyed the carelessly intentional pain he caused. Enjoyed the effect he had.

It was the pain that kept Munk coming back.

Oh, he didn't enjoy being in pain. He wasn't a masochist. But . . .the way the red cat would hold him a little tighter then was comfortable. Would touch him a little rougher then necessary . . .

The lack of respect was exhilarating.

He was a tribal protector.

He was the Lead Protector.

It was more then a job to him. It was his entire identity. It made him strong, it was his life's purpose. To defend and protect the ones you love, to have their trust and respect in return? There was no greater feeling in the world.

But he was so tired.

So often, he just got so tired.

But, in Macavity's arms, he could give up control. He could give up his dignity. He could be weak and break down.

Macavity would never give up this secret, he enjoyed having his enemy came crawling to him too much.

But that didn't mean he didn't used it against him.

The Napoleon of Crime had always taunted and mocked the protectors when he attacked the tribe. His verbal jabs masterfully crafted and aimed with precision, words that could kill as surely as his wicked claws. Ever since they had entered this strange arrangement Munkustrap had been giving him endless ammo. The horrible rolling shame he now felt near constantly when he fought to defend his family, brought on by the red cat's carefully crafted insults, was just another reason to stop this.

Someday.

Someday someone in the tribe would figure out the hidden meaning behind those barbs.

Then they would look at him . . .

They would look at him _so_ terribly.

He could picture it so clearly. The shock and disgust that would appear on their faces as they turned to stare at him. Able to do nothing but watch helplessly as their respect and trust in him shriveled and died in their eyes. Demeter would flee from him. Tugger would turn his back on him. Old Deuteronomy's disappointment. Etcetera's confusion and questions.

It would break him.

It would kill him.

Destroy him utterly.

Oh, if only risking his own soul was too high a price for him to pay!

But it wasn't.

He continued to chase that bruising touch.

Munkustrap shuddered anew as one of Macavity's hands slid slowly down his body and over his hips, claws gliding over vulnerable flesh. The shift of his fur intoxicating. His other arm tightened around Munk's waist, fingers and claws splaying out over his side and squeezing his skin. The pressure was teasing and bruising, just right to make him melt. Their bodies lay so glorious flush together, his legs straight with Macavity's spread to make room. They closed in now, powerful limbs pressing in on him and trapping him as surely as chains

The silver tabby trembled and nuzzled against the red cat's chest and neck, body going slack as it surrendered to the ministrations. The heat of Macavity swept him away. It was a drug to him in every sense of the word and he was hopelessly addicted to it.

He knew it was wrong.

This was wrong.

It was so unbearably wrong.

He hated Macavity with every fiber of his being. Yet he loved his touch more then the Everlasting Cat above.

But Munkustrap did not have to think as he lay there. He did not have to feel or care. He only had to give in to the devil he had locked himself away with.

And pray that the world would never find him.


End file.
